Michal and I are in the process of purchasing our first home together. As I look through various listings that match our budget, my heart is yearning for a place of warmth and romance, a place that my dreams call home.
In my imagination, our house is contained on a lush slice of space, where the verdant lawn feeds our sight and the pink blossoms soothe our senses. This tract is far removed from the chaos of rowdy engines and blaring sirens, on a street with no end and no commercial clutter. Children are playing outside, free from dread and full of glee. A soft wind rustles through the linden tree, and a bright sun smiles its approval through the kitchen window. Everywhere I look, there is a morsel of green to stimulate the soul and purify the air. This patch of grass and blossoms is a place of perpetual vacation for our thoughts and an inspiration for our heavenly ascent.
As much as I nurture this recess of my dreams, our present circumstances remind me that such a place is outside our reach (pending a miracle, of course). As vivid as this reality of unfulfilled dreams is, as clearer the substance of heaven emerges. This space of disordered byways and jammed pavements is not my home. This minute corner of the Milky Way galaxy, a speck of dust in the blueprint of a measureless universe, is not my destiny. I am designed and commissioned for heaven. My residence is a place of proportions that exhaust my understanding and sink my imagination.
Heaven is the atmosphere of joy-an ocean always flowing and never tainted by melancholy. Tears, or worry, or want are outside the scope of paradise reality. There is no want for treasures or titles, nor is there loss or end. There we need not hide from elements of rain or dust, nor retire under the canopy of night. Its currency is love, and its light is the Face of God. God penetrates everything and everyone-thus only His followers, in holiness and purity, will secure their address there.
The place we will likely call home here is stratospheres away from my dreams. However, I am content with that. This ride of measured moments is not the final station. My gaze is upward, my hope is inward. God's glory is the end and the beginning.
"And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away."
"Blessed are those who do His commandments, that they may have the right to the tree of life, and may enter through the gates into the city."
My father
This week my father celebrated sixty years of life under the sun.
It is hard to summarize the impact my dad has had upon my life and those closest to him. He has touched us in so many ways, and has left his imprints upon such vast corridors of our hearts. My best attempt to detail his influence could only be marginal in scope, for the man that I call Dad is more complex than my impoverished words may shape him to be.
I can remember, as a child, my father reciting Romanian poems such as "The Queen of Ostrogots", "Night of May", and "El Zorab". These sessions of recital unleashed in me a flood of desire for the nobility of words and their power to elevate the threshold of beauty in the human heart. Listening to his voice, I could feel the anguish of a dispossessed queen, the sorrow of a widowed wife, the flutter of a lover's heart, the weight of age upon one's mind... My father's voice, at times soft with whisper, at times thunderous with feeling, gave breath to history's most tumultuous figures, worlds away in character and struggles. We, the hearers, were changed-at least for the moment-and aroused to seek elegance of thought and feeling in our otherwise mundane existence.
Later in my teens, as my father had a life-changing encounter with God, he once again became a primary agent in shaping my destiny. Late at night, as we were all in bed, I would hear my father agonizing for hours in prayer for the eternal salvation of souls. He prayed for his loved ones by name, every night. He poured out his soul like water for God's revival upon his village, a place he still speaks of often with tears of compassion. God answered, and our faith grew. I became hooked to the God of my father, the God who became my Lord and my Friend, to whom I owe my breath and my devotion.
As an adult and with a family of my own, I continue to look to my father for help. Talking to him, even about the mundane events of everyday life, is soothing. Sometimes words aren't necessary-being around him is enough to calm my storms and encourage my spirit. God has been most generous to give me a father who loves Him and intercedes daily for his daughters and the world far beyond his loved ones. My father is living a life of excellence as He serves his God wholeheartedly, loves his family impartially and seeks the eternal and physical well-being of those around him. My desire is to emulate his passion for God and love for the souls of men as he lives a life of purpose of fruitfulness.
Happy birthday Dad-and thank you.
It is hard to summarize the impact my dad has had upon my life and those closest to him. He has touched us in so many ways, and has left his imprints upon such vast corridors of our hearts. My best attempt to detail his influence could only be marginal in scope, for the man that I call Dad is more complex than my impoverished words may shape him to be.
I can remember, as a child, my father reciting Romanian poems such as "The Queen of Ostrogots", "Night of May", and "El Zorab". These sessions of recital unleashed in me a flood of desire for the nobility of words and their power to elevate the threshold of beauty in the human heart. Listening to his voice, I could feel the anguish of a dispossessed queen, the sorrow of a widowed wife, the flutter of a lover's heart, the weight of age upon one's mind... My father's voice, at times soft with whisper, at times thunderous with feeling, gave breath to history's most tumultuous figures, worlds away in character and struggles. We, the hearers, were changed-at least for the moment-and aroused to seek elegance of thought and feeling in our otherwise mundane existence.
Later in my teens, as my father had a life-changing encounter with God, he once again became a primary agent in shaping my destiny. Late at night, as we were all in bed, I would hear my father agonizing for hours in prayer for the eternal salvation of souls. He prayed for his loved ones by name, every night. He poured out his soul like water for God's revival upon his village, a place he still speaks of often with tears of compassion. God answered, and our faith grew. I became hooked to the God of my father, the God who became my Lord and my Friend, to whom I owe my breath and my devotion.
As an adult and with a family of my own, I continue to look to my father for help. Talking to him, even about the mundane events of everyday life, is soothing. Sometimes words aren't necessary-being around him is enough to calm my storms and encourage my spirit. God has been most generous to give me a father who loves Him and intercedes daily for his daughters and the world far beyond his loved ones. My father is living a life of excellence as He serves his God wholeheartedly, loves his family impartially and seeks the eternal and physical well-being of those around him. My desire is to emulate his passion for God and love for the souls of men as he lives a life of purpose of fruitfulness.
Happy birthday Dad-and thank you.
Because of Him
I am most grateful that God chased after me for many years. His pursuit of my soul had nothing to do with any perceived merits my imagination may have amassed during my existence. I had no polished medals decorating my facade, no carats of virtue to illumine my character. There was no blazing jewel in my makeup to dangle before heaven and invite an inspired awe, nothing to persuade my Creator that I was worth saving. My "good" was at best a selfish flaunt of orchestrated events that were designed (sometimes unconsciously) to draw acceptance. Spiritually speaking, I was a corpse. Decayed in my very DNA by a propensity toward rebellion, God was the farthest reality from my mind. I didn't want to be bothered with the "God thing".
Today I cannot imagine where my life would be without God. He has indeed made all things beautiful. He has removed my mourning, that inner emptiness that I felt even as a preteen. He has taken away my dread of Sundays. It sounds odd, doesn't it? Emptiness that I couldn't explain but I could feel stretched over my inner being, because I knew there was more to that day than just play.
Because of Him, I rejoice immensely when I behold His glory in the heavens above and the cosmos below. I hear the green of the grass more deeply, and I smell the sound of the seagulls more profoundly through the colors of His love.
Because He lives, I sorrow not as the world, for I am persuaded that my afflictions work for me "a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." Christ is risen, thus death is not the end, but the beginning. "Life is a dream, and heaven reality", as Anointed penned it- a reality so dense with light and life that fighting for is the only thing logical. Because He lives, this momentary journey is sanctified with the high calling of knowing and enjoying God.
This day I celebrate the wonder of the empty tomb as the means to the fullness of God's grace. "Because He lives, I can face tomorrow"-and every single day after that.
Today I cannot imagine where my life would be without God. He has indeed made all things beautiful. He has removed my mourning, that inner emptiness that I felt even as a preteen. He has taken away my dread of Sundays. It sounds odd, doesn't it? Emptiness that I couldn't explain but I could feel stretched over my inner being, because I knew there was more to that day than just play.
Because of Him, I rejoice immensely when I behold His glory in the heavens above and the cosmos below. I hear the green of the grass more deeply, and I smell the sound of the seagulls more profoundly through the colors of His love.
Because He lives, I sorrow not as the world, for I am persuaded that my afflictions work for me "a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." Christ is risen, thus death is not the end, but the beginning. "Life is a dream, and heaven reality", as Anointed penned it- a reality so dense with light and life that fighting for is the only thing logical. Because He lives, this momentary journey is sanctified with the high calling of knowing and enjoying God.
This day I celebrate the wonder of the empty tomb as the means to the fullness of God's grace. "Because He lives, I can face tomorrow"-and every single day after that.
A change of lens
Today I have successfully lost one of my two car keys. Yap, after several unsuccessful attempts over the past few years, I have finally done the misdeed. It's not like I was trying to set a record in the Guinness Book of Records in a category penned after me. I wasn't going for "the most distracted woman" award with this final offense. This ability to misplace/lose/place out of sequence/miss the obvious trait has followed me ever since I can remember, and not without causing me grief. I remember a time in high school when my English teacher was going through our book review essays and discussing our ideas. His comment on the margin of my writing was this: "great essay as usual, but you completely missed the point". I have carried that latter part of the phrase with me for many years. I have tucked it deep within my heart, along with other "proof" demonstrating my deficiencies. What started with a mustard seed thought had ballooned into a mammoth tree of condemnation stretching over my soul. One such failure was not enough to dismantle my confidence, and thus failure never traveled alone. In a situation as this one of the missing key, my heart would remind of my other faults, to the point where I would crumple in a ruinous jar that couldn't hold much content. I have circled this dessert of condemnation many times, and have camped my in the "valley of despot" for seasons of my life.
Not today. Yes, I am grieved by my apparent negligence and the inability to retrieve my keys. I am tempted to slouch my soul under the whip of accusing voices and once again retreat into my "rightful" place. However, I have learned over the past few years that I am more than the sum total of my failures. My value is not diminished by the cracks and deformities of my vessel. My value is determined by God! He sees me as precious, whole, and highly treasured. He sees me covered in the righteousness of Jesus Christ. I am full of beauty in His eyes, because I am clothed with Christ. He has placed His seal of approval upon me the moment I threw off my tattered garment of sin and accepted His call to belong. To belong not to an organization, or a religious affiliation, or a club that assigns righteousness based on the sanguineous scars of stair-climbing my way to heaven. He called me belong to the very family of God, where He is my father and Jesus Christ is both my Brother and my Friend. I am still praying to find my keys, hoping for a miracle. Until then, I wait and rest, being persuaded that my Father still delights in me.
"But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, to those who believe in His name" (John 1:13a)
“The Lord takes pleasure in those who fear him, in those who hope in his steadfast love.” (Psalm 147:11)
Not today. Yes, I am grieved by my apparent negligence and the inability to retrieve my keys. I am tempted to slouch my soul under the whip of accusing voices and once again retreat into my "rightful" place. However, I have learned over the past few years that I am more than the sum total of my failures. My value is not diminished by the cracks and deformities of my vessel. My value is determined by God! He sees me as precious, whole, and highly treasured. He sees me covered in the righteousness of Jesus Christ. I am full of beauty in His eyes, because I am clothed with Christ. He has placed His seal of approval upon me the moment I threw off my tattered garment of sin and accepted His call to belong. To belong not to an organization, or a religious affiliation, or a club that assigns righteousness based on the sanguineous scars of stair-climbing my way to heaven. He called me belong to the very family of God, where He is my father and Jesus Christ is both my Brother and my Friend. I am still praying to find my keys, hoping for a miracle. Until then, I wait and rest, being persuaded that my Father still delights in me.
"But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, to those who believe in His name" (John 1:13a)
“The Lord takes pleasure in those who fear him, in those who hope in his steadfast love.” (Psalm 147:11)
Now and then
I have been thinking more about heaven these past few days. As I "number my days" and approach another birthday, I realize that I most likely left behind at least half of my lifespan, if my death is to happen within the statistical range slotted for my gender, on my continent. The thought that I am most likely past the midpoint of my life, and how little I have accomplished within it, is a most sobering subject to ponder. But what if I fall outside the carefully drawn statistical range of my generation, and I die sooner? How close to heaven am I really then?
My search for accomplishment has nothing to do with success that is measured in dollars or earthly accolades. I have no ambition to assemble all my faculties into high gear and invade the beaten hallways of some lauded university, to extend the length of my title a few letters to the right (although I have no objection to such pursuit by others). The allure of fame, as observed in the parade of celebrities flaunting their talent on the world stage or on the home stage, has also evaded my life. What I mean by accomplishment is this: how much of my life has been lived for the glory of God? How well have I loved this awesome God who has given me everything-all that I am and all that He is- and has made me a citizen of His abode? How much of my affection is allotted to Him, and how much of my attention has been directed on my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ?
I think about His love and have nothing but wonder that Christ would value me that much. He left heaven, a place of such perfection, such joy and such exuberant love that my thoughts can only explore the periphery of this sublime expanse. He traded that for this - 33 years of constant exposure to misunderstanding, rejection by family and friends, betrayal from within His inner circle, and death on a cross, a form of punishment so cruel that today we have devised none other yet to surpass its gruesomeness. He signed up for all that-beside the physical realities of no earthly home, hunger, thirst, weariness, and the never ending needs of the masses... and all that for the "whoever"!
I think about heaven more because I realize that now, more than yesterday, my time is short. Time lo love my God with all my being and with all my might. Time to set my face "like a flint" on the pursuit of the holy. Time to love my neighbour as myself, bearing all things, believing all things, hoping all things, enduring all things. Time to do as Jesus would, in my city, my country, and my world. The time is seek the Lord is almost finished. The time to sit at His feet, listening to His beautiful voice and drowning in the joy of His presence, is slipping away fast. Yes, it is true that I will love Him for all eternity... but this "late great planet" is the crucible for my faith. This brief moment of time that comprises my lifespan, this life of which half is likely already spent, is where I choose my master and pursue my choice. Eternity begins here, and Jesus is my Lord-yesterday, today and forever.
"For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life" (John 3:16).
My search for accomplishment has nothing to do with success that is measured in dollars or earthly accolades. I have no ambition to assemble all my faculties into high gear and invade the beaten hallways of some lauded university, to extend the length of my title a few letters to the right (although I have no objection to such pursuit by others). The allure of fame, as observed in the parade of celebrities flaunting their talent on the world stage or on the home stage, has also evaded my life. What I mean by accomplishment is this: how much of my life has been lived for the glory of God? How well have I loved this awesome God who has given me everything-all that I am and all that He is- and has made me a citizen of His abode? How much of my affection is allotted to Him, and how much of my attention has been directed on my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ?
I think about His love and have nothing but wonder that Christ would value me that much. He left heaven, a place of such perfection, such joy and such exuberant love that my thoughts can only explore the periphery of this sublime expanse. He traded that for this - 33 years of constant exposure to misunderstanding, rejection by family and friends, betrayal from within His inner circle, and death on a cross, a form of punishment so cruel that today we have devised none other yet to surpass its gruesomeness. He signed up for all that-beside the physical realities of no earthly home, hunger, thirst, weariness, and the never ending needs of the masses... and all that for the "whoever"!
I think about heaven more because I realize that now, more than yesterday, my time is short. Time lo love my God with all my being and with all my might. Time to set my face "like a flint" on the pursuit of the holy. Time to love my neighbour as myself, bearing all things, believing all things, hoping all things, enduring all things. Time to do as Jesus would, in my city, my country, and my world. The time is seek the Lord is almost finished. The time to sit at His feet, listening to His beautiful voice and drowning in the joy of His presence, is slipping away fast. Yes, it is true that I will love Him for all eternity... but this "late great planet" is the crucible for my faith. This brief moment of time that comprises my lifespan, this life of which half is likely already spent, is where I choose my master and pursue my choice. Eternity begins here, and Jesus is my Lord-yesterday, today and forever.
"For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life" (John 3:16).
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